


uncharted

by Killermanatee



Category: Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Endgame insert, F/M, Kinktober 2019, Post Discovery season 2, anonymous, hints of J/C (duh!), hints of Pike/One, kinky piketober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killermanatee/pseuds/Killermanatee
Summary: Pike finds himself confronted with a compelling Admiral from the future who got lost on her way.Maybe they can help each other.(day 11 of kinky Piketober 2019)





	uncharted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariella884](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariella884/gifts).

> About a million years ago I promised Ariella884 some Pike/Janeway. Hope you enjoy this.
> 
> I'm so excited that my 50th fic on AO3 is also the first in the Pike/Janeway tag!!! :)

Pike really shouldn’t be doing this.

He doesn’t know her name, only that she won’t stay, that she is headed not just to a different place, but a different time. She’s Starfleet, from far beyond his life expectancy, and she’s made it very clear she outranks him and everyone else on _Enterprise_. They only call her ‘the Admiral’ since she has refused to give her name or share anything else of importance. Instead she talked about a ‘temporal prime directive’ and Pike was instantly sure he didn’t want to know anything else.

What is one more secret weighing on his conscience?

Most of her time is spent in the shuttle bay where she has taken apart her small vessel that is placed behind an opaque force field only she has unrestricted access to. Every now and then she requests an item, and on a rare occasion a second set of eyes. It leaves a pit in Pike’s stomach to know there is something happening on his ship he is not fully aware of, and even worse, that it is something he couldn’t understand if he tried.

The Admiral is shrouded in secrecy, but that’s not the only reason the crew can’t stop speculating about her under their breath. Her presence can be felt at all times, even if they are just going about their mandated tasks, charting space and advancing the understanding of the cosmos.

It is difficult to be captivated by the unknown outside the ship’s hull when there is such an intriguing secret walking the halls within.

So far Number One is the only person who seems to be impervious to the Admiral’s charm. Pike has had a fair share of disagreements with her on how to deal with the commanding presence on board. They fundamentally disagree on how much freedom they grant this strange, compelling woman.

He can’t recall the last time their relationship - professional or personal - was this strained, and through it all he can’t shake the feeling that maybe before Discovery, before the red angel and before Boreth, he may have agreed with his first officer and closest friend.

It’s not just because of the constantly simmering conflict that Pike knows what a terrible idea it is to accept the Admiral’s invitation to have a private dinner in her assigned quarters, yet he can’t find it in himself to decline. It’s probably an even worse idea to help her polish off that bottle of whiskey she has somehow gotten her hands on.

Those elegant hands. He is mesmerized by the way she moves them when she speaks, talking in broad and unspecific terms about adventures and tragedies that lie somewhere far beyond his bleak future and in her distant past. Even if her descriptions remain vague, she makes it easy to picture her in command of a ship. Once they are a few drinks into the bottle, she slips up and the vessel’s name escapes her - _Voyager _\- spoken in a way that sounds like the memory of a long lost loved one.

She is a captivating storyteller; confident and lively while still inclusive, always drawing him in, wanting his thoughts and demanding reactions.

He is helpless to withstand her magnetism and is certain she must know what she is doing to him. Why else would she sit so close, allowing for their thighs to touch? Why else would she have unzipped her uniform jacket?

He is being played and he knows it and he should really leave, but he has already accepted that he won’t. He made his decision when he walked to her quarters and only solidified it in following her from the dining table to the couch.

When her hand lands on his knee, he looks up at her and knows he can’t blame the alcohol for what he is about to do. He sees her exactly for what she is doing, is perfectly clear on what she wants. And he willingly gives in.

She kisses with skill and determination, erasing the last of his reluctance with a sweep of her tongue. Confident fingers divest him of his jacket and she hums appreciatively into his mouth as her cool touch slides under his shirt. When he places one hand on her waist, there is a second of hesitation before she is back in control, making him wonder if he only imagined the hitch in her breath.

It is so very easy to follow her lead; to be pulled to her bed, clothes stripped efficiently until they are both naked and she pushes him flat to his back. Her touch is sensual and daring, and he allows himself to bathe in her open appreciation of his body, to accept that she directs his hands to get what she seems to crave. When she sinks down on him, she makes no noise, only looks right at him, her focus almost too intense. She tells him to keep his hands to himself, as if she can’t bear any distraction and then she rides him with explicit intent, tensing her muscles just right until he climaxes. 

The aftermath is as rigid and sudden as he anticipated. She gets off him with detached and mechanical motions so that both of them are next to each other on their backs. Even though the bed is rather small they aren’t touching and Pike stares at the ceiling, listening to the steady breathing at his side, feeling the heat of her body.

The quiet is harshly disrupted by the beep and following computer voice alerting them to a call for Captain Pike. His communicator is still in his pants pocket, somewhere between the couch and the bed, so he opts for the wall monitor, uncomfortably aware of his nudity as gets out of bed and presses the button.

“Go ahead.”

_“Captain,” _Number One’s voice is at peak professionalism, never a good sign when she contacts him this far into the night._ “I just wanted to inform you that the malfunction in the power couplings on deck twelve has been resolved and that all systems are functioning properly again.” _

Her tactic is blatantly obvious. She is contacting him for the sole purpose of interrupting what she knows he is in the middle of. It’s written all over the clipped tone of her entirely superfluous message. He rests his hand against the wall, turning his back to the woman behind him.

“Thank you for the update, Commander.” Maybe the mention of her rank will be reminder enough to keep this discussion brief. “If that will be all…”

_“The rest can wait till the morning briefing. Apologies for the late disturbance.”_

One couldn’t possibly show her dislike more clearly. He has to talk to her. They need to smooth things over and get back to trusting each other. He truly hates being at odds with her.

“I will see you in the morning. Pike out.”

He rubs his eyes, fully aware of how much more complicated he has made things by being here.

“Trouble in paradise?” the Admiral interrupts his thoughts.

He turns around to find her observing him curiously, her entirely nude body still fully on display on top of the bedding. Despite her age she is still beautiful, and for a moment he wonders what she must have looked like at his age, when she was captain. He shakes his head, trying to reign in his thoughts.

“Number One is…” he stops himself before he can say ‘protective’ or ‘suspicious’ and instead goes with “concerned.” He is fully aware that he went for diplomacy in favor of honesty and it gnaws at him. The Admiral hums in response, a non-committal noise that makes him wonder what she isn’t saying.

He moves back to the bed, stretching out on his side to look at the woman he can’t make sense of. She mirrors his actions, resting her head on her arm. Her hair is mussed, the lipstick worn off and Pike is struck by how much it softens her appearance.

“Did you ever have a disagreement with a first officer you weren’t sure you could move past?” He asks candidly, needing to put his fear out there.

“No.” Her answer is so clear and without doubt he is taken aback and the surprise that must show on his face, because she smiles and elaborates. “I only had one first officer I…” she pauses as if she is not sure how to continue the sentence, her eyes darting over Pike’s face. “I only commanded one starship throughout my career, and for almost the entirety of that time I had the same first officer.”

Pike wonders if this is how Starfleet will work in the future, or if there were circumstances that made her situation different from the norm.

“How long were you on that ship together?”

“Twenty-three years.”

Pike’s eyes go wide. “That is one hell of a deep space mission. At least by my standards, who knows what Starfleet will get up to in the future.”

Once again her eyes seem to search his face before answering. “Our situation was… unusual.”

Her voice is heavy with deeper meaning, full of stories and lessons he can’t learn, and yet again he wishes they could have met under different circumstances. 

“So in twenty-three years, you two always found a way to make it work?”

She swallows, then wets her lips before she answers. “Yes.”

Pike wonders if she will elaborate because for a moment she seems to want to add something else, but then the softness vanishes as her features harden. “You know I can’t give you details.”

There is so much hidden under the surface of her detachment - he can sense it - but she seems to be unwilling to open up further. Instead, a canny flirtatious smile appears on her lips and her hand settles on his hip. “But I think there is enough right here for us to focus on.”

He knows she is deflecting, but maybe this distraction is exactly what he has needed. And after all, it’s only temporary, off the records. Although he wonders if he’d care even if it wasn’t. He has missed the simple and rudimentary satisfaction of sex; that bone-deep bliss that only comes from this intimate human connection.

Just as before, her fingers are strong and determined. She is already pushing him onto his back again but this time he doesn’t give in. Following her lead was fun for the first round, but he needs something else.

It takes barely any effort to take charge, he is much stronger after all, but nevertheless her face shows surprise when he rolls on top of her.

“We’ve done things your way. Now it’s my turn.” He isn’t fully prepared for the spark in her eyes, the immediate flush to her cheeks in response to his words. And it makes him want to see what other reactions he can coax from her, how much more is hidden under all those carefully constructed lines of self-defense. 

He settles between her thighs, and kisses along her jaw, then further down to the impossibly soft skin of her neck. The tension begins to drain from her, and she turns her head to grant him better access.

He traces the lines of her collar bones with his tongue, rubs his nose against the supple flesh of her breasts and is surprised when she shivers as he teases her nipples. The grip of her fingers on his shoulders loosens, her touch turning from a demand into a caress, lightly trailing up and down his arms.

She whimpers and moans as he sucks quickly fading marks into her skin. The noises spur him on, tempt him to see in which other ways he can ease the iron grip she has on herself.

Only when he presses the first kiss to her stomach does he feel her stiffen for a moment, but she relaxes when he circles her navel with his tongue, and moves one hand up to toy with her breasts. She moans, a sound coming from deep in her chest, as if she has been holding on to it for too long and it’s by far the most erotic thing she’s done all night.

When he comes to rest on his stomach between her thighs, he contemplates teasing her, wondering if he could make her beg, but then she whimpers and raises her hips in such open need that he can’t deny her. He swipes his tongue through her folds, tastes remnants of his own earlier release and his erections swells with the sensation. He traces her swollen labia, sucks gently on her clit and is rewarded with a cry.

There is no turning back. This is exactly what he’s been craving, that immediate, intense sensation of pure want. He places one hand on her lower abdomen and moves the other between her legs, caressing her with his tongue and lips and fingers, and he is suddenly desperate to make her come.

He pushes one finger into her, feeling her muscles flutter around him. She is writhing, her stomach flexing under his touch as her hips begin to shake. Her sex is gushing against his mouth, coating his fingers and he adds a second, curling both fingers upwards inside her while he flicks his tongue over her clit.

Her orgasm is magnificent, making her entire body shake and twist. He tightens his hold on her lower abdomen, keeping her close to his mouth. He’s not willing to stop, too eager to keep her on her high, drunk on the power of making her come, her raspy cries of pleasure ringing in his ears.

Not until she weakly tugs on his hair does he let up, and even then he takes his time to bring her back down. He slows his movements fraction by fraction, overwhelmed by the spasms that run through her every time he touches his tongue to her clit. And even when he allows her to pull him back up he takes his time to lick the sheen of perspiration from her sternum, to ensure he has sucked her nipples back into stiff peaks.

She is panting and her cheeks are red when he finally comes to rest back over her. He is struck by this entirely different person she has turned into; vibrant and unguarded.

One of her hands starts its path down his abdomen, but he stops her and instead brings her knuckles to his lips to kiss them.

“Let’s just stay like this,” he says quietly and after a second of hesitation she merely nods and settles deeper into the pillows.

The following silence is different than before. He props himself up on one elbow at her side and watches her. His hand is still holding hers, resting against her chest, rising and falling with her breathing. Unlike before their bodies are now touching for almost their entire lengths and she closes her eyes, a hint of a gentle smile playing on her lips.

\-----

He leaves the guest quarters quietly, even if he can tell she isn’t asleep. She doesn’t stop him and so he wanders back through thankfully quiet hallways, his skin still tingling. But even once he is stretched out in his own bed he can’t seem to find any rest, the evening replaying, memories extending out to the past days, even further until he thinks about events spanning near a decade.

Not _quite_ as long as twenty-three years, but no less significant.

Mind made up, he reaches for the padd on his bedside table and twelve seconds later knows that Number One is as awake as he is.

It takes less than a minute for him to be back on his feet, get dressed and head out the door.

\-----

Three days later, his senses sharpened by adrenaline, the stinging smell of ruptured coolant lines in the air, Pike yells his commands through the chaos, everyone doing their best in their fight with the Klingons. Their ship decloaked only minutes after the Admiral’s small vessel had left the shuttle bay, exactly as she had warned them.

Number One executes every maneuver impeccably, managing to supply rough commands in tandem with Pike while her fingers are busy on the controls.

The moment the Admiral vanishes, Pike feels the weight lift off is shoulder. From here on out the battle seems like barely more than a nuisance. Six minutes later the Klingons stand down.

Steadily the crew begins to address the damages to the bridge, everyone seamlessly tending to their tasks. Pike checks the reports, glad to find there have been only a few minor injuries and that the repairs look to be manageable.

From halfway across the bridge he catches One looking over at him, hair disheveled, cheeks flushed, but a familiar smirk on her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to [TheShorty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShorty/pseuds/TheShorty/works) for gifting me with this great prompt and to [IcecreamJunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCream_Junkie/works) and [Miss_Mil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mil/works) for betaing!
> 
> I am following [this](https://vexy-sins.tumblr.com/post/187147986243/kinktober-2019-prompt-list) lovely list of Kinktober prompts.


End file.
